1967
by spheeris1
Summary: AU :: Piper POV :: sequel to '1957' :: one-shot split into three parts epilogue :: "...and suddenly her eyes quickly scan ahead, already searching out a name she has not seen nor said aloud in almost ten years and when it is finally there, when that name is just right there in front of her, it leaves Piper's lips like a long lost prayer. 'Alex Vause.'"
1. Chapter 1

It took so long to get used to a different last name, the final remains of her childhood forever gone once she stood up there and said "I do."

It took even longer to figure out the movements, though they had been together since forever – Larry tucking her books under his arm, Larry walking her home from some dance or a football game, Larry and his eager kisses and his nervous hands – but marriage isn't dating and so they shuffled around each other, almost shy, after vows were taken and after promises were made before a whole host of family, friends, and some silent god up on high.

It took a long time for Piper Chapman to become Piper Bloom.

It did happen, though, ever so slowly, and now she knows how Larry takes his breakfast ( _two eggs, sunny-side up, buttered toast, coffee with cream and sugar_ ), she knows the lines of his face nearly as well as her own ( _laughter near the mouth, frustrations along the forehead_ ), and she knows that he loves her, oh so completely, and she knows that she is one heck of a lucky girl to have him, to glance down and see that ring on her finger.

And whenever she looks at the photographs that line the mantle – her in white, baby's breath held fast in her hands, with her parents smiling by her shoulder and Danny standing proud in his uniform as Cal tugs on his tie impatiently – she knows that this is what good fortune looks like, she knows that this is what good girls are meant for and Piper is nothing if not a good girl.

Still, it took a long time.

It took a long time to forget that other Piper from some other life, to close up memories like an old book and pack that story far away, to not wish for something else, to not dream of someone else...

But Piper Bloom talks on the phone to her best friend about this and that, Piper Bloom plans a Sunday dinner and tidies up the house until the guests arrive, Piper Bloom flips through magazines as gossip swirls around the salon, Piper Bloom shifts into her husband's embrace whenever he turns out their bedroom light.

And Piper Bloom tells herself that whoever she once was doesn't matter much anymore.

But Piper Chapman knows better, fingers stalling on the black-and-white words of this newspaper page – Diane Vause, 49, of Richmond died on September 12th – and suddenly her eyes quickly scan ahead, already searching out a name she has not seen nor said aloud in almost ten years and when it is finally there, when that name is just right there in front of her...

...it leaves Piper's lips like a long lost prayer.

"Alex Vause."

/ /

There's laundry to be folded, there's a roast to defrost, there's all the odds and ends of her days to get to and yet she is a million miles away-

 _Alex and her green-eyed gaze, warm while still being wicked, and she is beckoning Piper to hurry up, to keep up as they shimmy their way down the quarry, summer skies cooling down to dusk and leaving them alone with stars just waking up, and Alex steadies her, sure palms against Piper's hips, and they are breathless with this moment, this moment where the two of them don't have to hide and it is only natural that their lips meet as they have so many times before, sweet and secret and absolutely perfect_

-and some things never truly disappear, they just burrow down deep into the shadows of a person's world, quiet until they are rousted from slumber, and Larry will be coming home soon and there's a family just down the road that is so very proud of her, there are rules to forever follow and there are sacraments that she has worked so hard to hold dear.

But Piper is a million miles away, back in a land of stolen clenches and overwhelming feelings, and her heart is pounding in her chest as she draws closer to this cemetery, as she bypasses the few somber faces and the motions of a preacher with dirt slipping from his hands, and then there she is, there's Alex Vause – pale cheeks cut with tears, arms wrapped tightly around the middle of her body – and Piper has no idea how she has managed to live this long without having Alex in her life.

"Piper...?"

The sound of her name is choked and confused and Piper blinks her way out of the staring she was doing and goodness knows she should say something, an explanation or simply some words of comfort, but Piper is moving instead, reaching out and pulling Alex into her arms and the other woman doesn't shove her away or even try to struggle against this hold.

They cling to one another, as if they never really let each other go in the first place.

/ /

The diner table is sticky between them, coffee rings left like abstract art and maple-syrup stains at their elbows, and the air is thick with all they are not saying, serious conversation swallowed up by mundane chatter and the steady hum of a radio behind the counter (" _...and it really doesn't matter if I'm wrong I'm right, where I belong I'm right where I belong.._.").

Alex dropped out of school in her senior year, smart but very bored.  
Alex hitchhiked for a while, thumbing her way west.  
Alex got into some kind of trouble and she won't say anymore than that.

Alex lives near San Francisco now – endless sunshine and peace signs and record stores and revolution.

But Piper isn't transfixed by a life so unlike her own, she is memorizing this face that she hasn't seen in so long, looking for the changes that growing up can bring while still finding familiar places – Alex's eyes carry the gleam of adult-sized awareness and yet her lips lift in the same manner as always, still somehow shy even when she smirks – and Piper really shouldn't focus on Alex's mouth, the slant and the slope of tender red flesh, but she remembers...

...dear lord, she remembers just how those lips taste...

Piper feels the heat as it flutters up her neck and she shifts her body, suddenly uncomfortable in this vinyl-lined booth, and Alex clears her throat, like she knows, like she has always known just how a reunion of theirs would go.

"So... you're married, hmm?"

The question slices through the tension and creates a pain all its own. And Piper glances at that ring, delicate stone atop a white-gold band, and yes, yes she is married and yes, it's been for a while now - _"Three years." "Three years, wow..."_ \- and sure, it is nice, it's as nice as can be, but Piper knows she doesn't look particularly enthused and Alex doesn't look truly interested.

And so the tension gets harder to talk around, time apart weighed further down by loss and by lies, and Alex sighs as she pushes an untouched cup of coffee away.

"I should go. I've got a lot to sort out at my mother's house and only a few days to do it in."

And Piper should let her go, she should put some change down on this table and walk out the door and not spend another second here, she should go home and be there to greet Larry, she should become Piper Bloom once more and chalk this day up to a childish whim, a fanciful dream that has no business being in the real world.

"Do you need any help?"

But letting go of Alex Vause was always the dream, never the reality, and now that she is here again, Piper cannot bear the thought of letting the woman slip away like she did before, and she knows it is wrong – there's a ring in their midst, commitments have been made, and there are hearts to be broken still – and she can see the indecision flicker across Alex's face, the trepidation where past and present collide...

...but Piper wants, Piper wants so much, and surely Alex can see it, surely Alex can feel it...

...and the song changes to something older, Brenda Lee's sweet voice echoing a plight as old as time itself - " _...emotion, you get me upset, why make me remember what I want to forget..._ " - and something in Alex's gaze seems to give way, a faltering resolve that begins to disappear the longer that they stare at each other.

"Yeah, some help would be great."

And Piper Bloom shakes her head, disappointed, but Piper Chapman feels like everything finally makes sense.

/ /

 **[tbc]**


	2. Chapter 2

Piper stares at the address written down on this scrap of paper, the bold scrawl of letters and numbers to a house she barely recalls – they were always sneaking away from their homes after-all, running fast from the prying eyes of a small town – and only the opening and closing of the front door shakes off her reverie and she tucks this secret behind the hem of her skirt.

It doesn't have to be a secret from her husband, it truly doesn't. If she were to tell him that Alex Vause is back in town, he'd furrow his brow for a minute but then he would remember the woman; he would dig up recollections of Piper and a dark-haired girl, always waving at each other in the hallways, and didn't they all used to hang out a lot back in those days...?

On the surface of things, there is no reason why Piper can't tell Larry about the passing of an old friend's mother and how she wants to be there, to comfort and to help. He would smile at her affectionately and nod his understanding head, he would approve because Larry Bloom is a good man.

But of course, the surface is as far as Larry has ever gotten with Piper anyway... and Alex – and all that Alex represents – goes so much further than that.

And Piper kisses Larry, sweet but chaste, and she busies herself with getting supper ready, his voice lighthearted as he asks how her day has been and then complains a bit about his own and all the while a tiny piece of paper burns hot at her waist.

/ /

They don't talk much at first, Alex in a haze of sadness and Piper twisted up by awkwardness, but a warm chuckle breaks the silence and Piper looks up from her box of dishes wrapped up in newspaper to find Alex grinning just a bit at a stack of records.

Alex glances over at her and lifts up one of them up, a 45 of 'Bye Bye Love' that looks a little worse for wear.

"She kept all of them, every single one I ever bought before I left..."

Piper watches as Alex tilts her head downward once more, as a thousand memories cloud her features, and Piper catches the tightening of the woman's jaw, as if the tide of sorrow can be fought by force. And it almost broke Piper's heart to see Alex weeping at her mother's grave, but she thinks that perhaps this sight is harder to take and she wants to badly to mend what has been torn asunder.

The loss of a mother.  
The agony of denied love.  
Everything... Piper wants to fix everything...

"Play it."

Alex looks over at her again, eyes shimmering despite the pains taken to avoid more tears, but that grin is still there – shaky but persistent – and Alex clears away the mess around the record player and soon enough the static hum of the needle against the grooves turns into the tender harmonies of The Everly Brothers.

The song fills up this otherwise quiet room and somewhere in the middle of the chorus, Alex begins to softly sing along and Piper feels her own eyes start to sting, but Alex is smiling at her and so these familiar words fall from Piper's lips as well.

"...bye bye love  
bye bye sweet caress  
hello emptiness  
I feel like I could die  
bye bye my love  
good bye..."

/ /

More records are played and more boxes are filled up with Diane Vause's life and Alex talks some about where she lives now, about some of the places she has been when she was on the road, and Piper soaks up the sound of Alex's voice and tries to imagine the colors of everywhere that Alex has been, tries to picture herself in these places with Alex...

...but that fantasy turns all too quickly to what Piper cannot allow, leaving her keen and anxious at the same time, and so Piper tells her head to stop imagining all together.

Alex shares a photograph that tumbles down from the pages of a book, a ruddy-cheeked Alex held in her mother's arms – both of them giggling as if the camera isn't there – and Alex reminiscences about the jokes her mother used to tell, about the tall tales she used to regale Alex with, about all the silly games they would play and all the made-up adventures they would go on when Alex was a child.

Alex shares the story of her mother all afternoon, revealing so many moments that no one else knows about, and Piper...

...oh, all Piper can think about is kissing Alex until neither one of them can breathe.

She's almost glad when the clock chimes from the wall, letting them know that four o'clock is here and that Piper needs to go in order to arrive home before Larry. And Alex hasn't asked if Larry knows that she is back in town, if Piper has told anyone about any of this; Alex hasn't asked anything beyond that one half-hearted inquiry at the diner yesterday.

And maybe that's for the best, that's what Piper chooses to believe, because if Alex asked... well, what could Piper possibly say in return that wouldn't end up saying everything she's trying so hard not to say?

But still, at the door, Piper says she'll come back tomorrow and there's a flash of something in Alex's gaze, an awareness that speaks volumes, and Alex leans towards her, pressing those lips gently to Piper's cheek.

"See you tomorrow, Pipes."

Voice low, hot against the skin, and then Alex shuts the door and Piper...

...oh, all Piper can think about now is tomorrow.

/ /

The problem, or at least the most current problem, is that Piper just might be a little bit tipsy.

 **. . .**

She arrived three hours ago to a wide open front door, a portable radio playing loudly, and Alex sort-of singing, sort of humming along to the song with a cigarette held loosely between her fingers.

Okay, Piper thought it was a cigarette at first, but one whiff of the air told her differently. And maybe she has spent her whole life in this tiny, backwater town, but it's not like she doesn't know a thing or two about the world – especially with a best friend like Polly Harper. Piper recalls that one night during senior year, in the basement of some other girl's house, and they all marveled at what Polly held in the palm of her hand.

" _Pete got it from a boy who lives on his street."_  
 _"What is it again?"_

 _Polly rolled her eyes at the girl, affecting an air of far more superiority than was real._

" _It's a spliff, Debbie. Geez, pull you head out of the sand."_

Alex spots her just standing there and shuffles her way over, half-dancing while half-avoiding the clutter on the floor. She is close enough for Piper to see the lazy sheen within her gaze, close enough to see a thin stream of blue-tinged smoke slip past Alex's lips. The woman offers up the joint with raised eyebrows.

"No thank you."

Alex rolls her eyes, too, but it is far more convincing then the one that Polly delivered all those years ago. But Alex doesn't look truly put-out, she just takes another drag and then motions for Piper to follow her to the kitchen. And there on the counter is a nice collection of bottles, most of them near to empty, but a few still look sealed up tight.

"Pick your poison."

And Piper tells herself that she doesn't have to drink anything, that it would be smarter to not drink anything, but Alex is smirking at her, an unknown challenge lurking around those dangerous corners, and so Piper opens up what appears to be a rather dusty bottle of red wine. She raises a full glass and Alex raises her joint in return.

"To Diane."

And Alex's voice is warm as they smile at each other and Piper lifts her glass a bit higher.

"To Diane."

 **. . .**

Tipsy, yes, and quite possibly high – that's the most current problem that Piper is facing. Not that she smoked any of that joint, which Alex seemed to make last forever, but the smell of it is everywhere and maybe that can affect a person, too. Maybe she was high that one time with Polly and forgot about it until right now.

"Are you done with that stack of books?"

Piper turns her head and suddenly realizes that she is on the floor and she laughs a bit, okay maybe she laughs more than a bit because Alex is peering at her – all upside-down – and that's just funny.

"There was that day when we were in the creek, you know, the creek, right?"  
"Mmmhmm..."  
"And you pulled me in. It was cold and that was nice."

Piper blinks slowly, not sure if what she said has made much sense, but by the time her eyes re-open, Alex is beside her – propped up on her elbow with her face framed by pitch-black hair, grinning in a manner that Piper knows so very well – and Piper cannot stop herself from shifting closer, well, it's more like rolling closer, but she gets there in the end, there beside Alex Vause, right where she is meant to be.

"Piper Chapman, are you drunk?"

The words seem to brush against Piper's ear, as if she can actually feel them, and maybe she can because Alex is so close, so very very close, and it takes nothing at all for Piper to reach up and slide her fingertips across the smooth surface of Alex's skin – the forehead, the ridge of the nose, the jawline – and it takes nothing at all for Piper to kiss Alex because goodness knows that's what she's been wanting to do all along.

And all the faded images of her youth that she tried to forget, all the sensations she tried to bury within the folds of a wedding dress, it all comes back to life again – the feeling of Alex touching her, the taste of Alex against her tongue, the trembling wonder and the need that rushes through her blood – it all comes back to Piper now, vibrant and wild and it is love, it is so much love that Piper thinks she might drown in it.

Alex is the one who puts a stop to things, the two of them breathing heavily once they are apart, and Piper doesn't want to stop, she wants to keep going, she wants all of Alex, but Alex is shaking her head and moving away and Piper is pretty certain that she actually whines in complaint.

"We, uh... We can't do this, Piper..."  
"But why not?"  
"Because. Because it's not right, you've had almost a whole bottle of wine and you're not...", and Alex sighs as she runs her fingers through her own hair, "...you're not mine anymore."

Of course, Alex is wrong and right at the same time, and Piper is a little tipsy and maybe a little high, too, but she knows who she wants, she's always known, and if this is all they'll ever get, then Piper is bound and determined to show Alex the truth that she's had to deny for so long.

The ring is easy to slip off her finger, easy to set aside, and maybe the marriage cannot be taken back, maybe there's a good man out there who still thinks that his wife truly adores him, but Piper's heart has always belonged to just one person.

"I'm yours, Alex. I've been yours since the day we met and I'll probably be yours until the end of time and I love you, you know? I love you so much-"

But Alex's lips steal the rest of whatever she might have said and maybe Piper didn't need to say anything else anyway, not really, not when they both tumble backwards – Alex pressed so deliciously against Piper's body, those unpacked books knocked over in their wake, the two of them kissing recklessly as hands begin to wander...

...and maybe they are saying all that matters right now.

/ /

 **[tbc]**


	3. Chapter 3

It should feel a little strange just how effortless it is for Piper to lie, to take the truth and comfortably hide it within the confines of her mind, to do just what is expected of her and yet still manage to break every rule she is supposed to honor and obey.

But she slides this iron over Larry's shirts, steam drifting up and over her face, and she listens for the timer to go off by the stove, letting her know that the casserole for the weekend is done, and she is the perfect wife – dutiful, attentive, and so very congenial – and so Piper Bloom has nothing to feel ashamed of.

Piper Chapman, however, is a flustered mess of a girl.

And if the iron stays on that white cotton for too long, once or twice, and if that casserole cooks a bit longer than it should, edges a touch too brown... well, that's because Piper Chapman is not the perfect wife at all.

A perfect wife wouldn't cheat on her husband.  
A perfect wife wouldn't want to keep on cheating.  
A perfect wife wouldn't be falling apart like this.

Falling apart in-between the grocery shopping and the visit from her mother, falling apart as she walks from the closet to the dresser and then downstairs, falling apart because Alex Vause is so near and all Piper wants to do is run to the other woman, all Piper wants is Alex...

But she stays away, at least for today, and she irons and she cooks and she shops and she listens to her mother prattle on and on and she tries her best to focus, she tries her best to be perfect, she tries her best to be Piper Bloom, but all the while-

 _she is sobering up rather quickly but she isn't stopping and that's a problem, that's a huge problem, but Alex's hands are smooth and warm and so sure, sure and confident and Alex hasn't been alone all this time, Alex knows things and she is sharing them, she is tattooing them onto Piper's skin and each touch bestowed causes Piper to moan and the sound echoes around this room, wanton and needy, and then Alex is everywhere, breasts to stomach to thighs, and yet Piper aches for more, begs for more, and they aren't silly, stupid teenagers anymore and it shows when Alex moves inside of her, when she knows just where to press and just when to go faster, and it shows when Piper pulls the woman closer, when she rolls her hips upward, seeking without thinking, just feeling, just feeling all of this and never wanting it to end_

-she is falling apart, crumbling under the weight of a love that never ceased to be, and a perfect wife would probably know just what to do but Piper Chapman is as lost as ever.

/ /

The bits and baubles of what was once a home are all that is left now, but neither one of them seem to be in any kind of hurry to pack these little things up and away.

Alex turns on the radio, waiting for a good song to start playing, and then she is beckoning Piper over with a flutter of her fingertips. And they smile at each other, like this is their every day, like they are truly together, and Alex's arms go around Piper's waist and then they are swaying from side to side, barely dancing as their eyes meet and do not stray, as they remain steadfast in their silence instead of talking about the inevitable:

Alex will be leaving tomorrow.

That's the reality that Piper has no words for, that's the truth that Piper cannot comprehend, and so she is shoving it down, she is pretending with all her might and she could make this illusion work, she knows she could, but Alex's stare is full of affection, full of longing, and so everything that Piper is trying to convince herself of simply shatters.

And they aren't dancing anymore, they are just standing still as Alex tightens her hold and as Piper cries.

"Stay with me tonight..."

And what Alex is suggesting is such a bad idea, worse than a bottle of wine and of love hastily made, and Piper thinks of Larry – arriving to an empty house, his clear-eyed gaze turning cloudy with worry – and Piper thinks of her whispering neighbors, of her proud parents...

...Piper thinks of Danny, of his face the night that he saw Piper and Alex kissing, of the disgust that colored his words and of the anger that seemed to make his whole body shake...

"...please?"

...and Piper thinks about another day, so very long ago, when Alex looked at her like she is right now - wanting to believe that they've got all the time in the world when they both know better – and Piper doesn't know how to stop these tears from falling, how to stop her heart from breaking, and Piper doesn't know how to be stronger, how to be braver...

Piper doesn't know how to keep Alex Vause and not lose everyone else.

"I can't, Alex... I can't..."

But Alex already knew the answer that Piper would give, same as it was in years gone by, and Piper makes herself watch as the woman that she loves nods her head, resigned to this fate, and then Alex steps away with her gaze trained on the floor.

"Right. It was ridiculous of me to ask."  
"I would, Alex, god knows I would stay with you if-"  
"I know, Piper, okay? I get it, it's over now and that's that."

The Alex that Piper left behind in that school restroom was quiet and solemn in her acceptance, but this Alex wears her hurt like a shield and so her voice becomes hard, becomes cold and removed, and Piper hates the sound of it.

Piper hates so much, though – this distance between them now, the fact that time just won't stop, a wedding ring like a noose around her neck – but Piper thinks that she hates herself most of all because she is the one walking away once more.

She is the one sobbing but still stumbling out the door, she is the one gripping the steering wheel – white-knuckled in her misery – but her foot doesn't leave the gas pedal, she is the one with the image of Alex's stony expression stuck in her head even as she makes her way back to that house and to that husband and to that life she never, ever wanted.

And Piper Bloom has it easy, all cookie-cutter fine and content, but Piper Chapman looks at herself in the mirror and she sees the cracks, she sees all the places where she is broken and there's no one around to put her back together again.

/ /

The dreams start a week or so later, always the same scenarios playing out behind Piper's eyelids – Alex's lips wonderfully firm upon her own, Alex begging her not to leave, Alex disappearing even as Piper tries to hold onto her – and so sleep becomes a restless sort-of thing, more fitful than satisfying, and every morning is more of a burden than a release these days.

And she tries to hide it all away, to bury it all like she did before, and goodness knows she hopes and prays for this plan to work, but she knows it isn't working when Larry rubs her back sympathetically and asks if she's okay, as he slides the pad of his thumb under one of her eyes, commenting on the slight darkness to be found there.

"I'm fine, I really am."  
"You just don't seem like yourself..."

And Piper thinks she might be losing her mind a little bit because she has to swallow down a laugh, a rueful chuckle built of bitter bones... because who is Piper anyway?

A wife? A philanderer? A little girl lost? All of the above?

And whoever Larry thinks he knows, well, that woman is only a part of the whole and not even that true of a piece; that woman is a mask, donned to save herself and to spare her family pain, to be the good girl no matter the cost.

But Piper isn't a good girl, she's just good at playing the part.

And her smile is tired but she turns it on nonetheless and her body feels so listless but she makes it move – to cup Larry's cheek, to kiss him and make him believe that she is okay, that everything is okay – and the words repeat inside of her brain, over and over, as she pleads for them to become real...

 _...everything is okay, everything is okay, everything is okay..._

/ /

The trick to living in a world of make-believe is to let go of whatever could have been, to buy into the fragile notions and the falsehoods with all your heart. And Piper has been a master of this game for so long, willing and able at every turn, and so as another month comes to an end, she steps further and further away from what happened - away from stolen kisses, away from secret touches, and away from Alex Vause.

Another element of this game is to not let those thoughts return, to trample them before they bowl you over, and so Piper doesn't pass by that house – not ever – and she doesn't listen to any of those songs, scratched and nicked albums left to gather dust in the garage, and if this method of avoidance doesn't work, then she pours herself into a project, like the church social or Polly's baby shower.

The trick is to make yourself believe that you've forgotten and then, one day, it'll seem as though you have.

And Piper would have gotten to that 'one day' eventually – she's done it before, after all - but there's a white envelope in her hand, black ink pressed into the surface with determination, and it's from somewhere in California, from somewhere close to San Francisco.

It's a letter from Alex and Piper's knees buckle until she sinks to the living room floor and she should throw this letter away, unopened and unread, and she should ignore it, pretend that it never arrived because that's the trick to keeping this life of hers intact, isn't it?

But that 'one day' seems very far from her grasp as her thumb peels back the paper, as her nervous fingers unfold this singular page, as her eyes devour each and every word-

 **. . .**

 _Piper,_

 _My mother used to tell me that the problem with taking a risk is that it's just that – a risk. And you never know where you might land, on your feet if you're lucky or on your head if you're not, but what's life without taking a chance once in a while, right? That's what she used to say to me, all the damn time._

 _And I've been mad at you for weeks now, mad at you for ending things with me – again – and I certainly didn't think I would be writing anything at all to you but I get it now, okay?_

 _You'd be taking a risk, to be with me, and I've not given you a reason to do so. I mean, not really. I walked away, too, back then, and I didn't stick around to fight for us. I didn't stick around at all, I just ran as fast as I could, and maybe I've been running ever since that day but I don't want to run anymore._

 _Piper Chapman, I love you. I've loved you for so long, it's like you're a part of me, and I can't promise you a simple life, I can't promise that your parents won't disown you, I can't promise you anything other than the fact that I love you and I'll go on loving you for as long as I can and I want you to be with me. I want you here, in my arms, in my bed, in my world, and it'll be a risk – for the both of us – but my mother was right, you know..._

 _Life isn't worth much if you aren't willing to take a chance or two and I'm willing to take a million chances on you, Pipes. I'm willing and I hope to god you are, too._

 _I'd say write me back but, better yet, come find me. You have the address now._

 _A.V._

 **. . .**

-and there are no tricks left now that can save Piper, not with Alex's letter pressed hard against her chest, and so she watches as this kingdom of lies comes tumbling down around her – one by one, once and for all.

/ /

 **[tbc]**


	4. Chapter 4

Piper closes her eyes, closes them tightly and reminds herself to breathe, all shaky inhales and exhausted exhales. And the chaotic sound of car horns and chugging truck engines, of foreign voices behind walls and hollering from the street – all of it recedes for a moment or two, leaving Piper with just the echoes of the past three days rattling around her brain.

Echoes of sobbing confessions, of shattered vows, of slamming doors and the cold silence that comes with finally telling the truth.

" _I don't know who you are anymore, Piper... How could you do this to me?" Larry's voice cracks with tears that threaten to fall, but his eyes are fixed on the ring no longer on her finger, on the symbol of their love forever tarnished. And Piper wants to say that she is sorry, that she never meant to hurt him, but her suitcase sits by her feet and Larry storms away from this house that was supposed to be theirs and 'sorry' doesn't mean much when a world is falling apart._

Echoes of her feet against that dirt road for the last time – her mother full of questions while her father stares holes into the floor, Danny's photograph standing in quiet condemnation as Cal hovers nervously in the hallway.

" _Piper, have you lost hold of your senses? What do you mean you are leaving Larry? And who the hell is this Alex anyway?" Her mother is shrill, like always, but Piper is watching her father instead, waiting for him to saying something, but the words never come and her mother's gaze searches her out – worried and fractured and confused. And Piper wants to say that she is sorry, that she never meant to lie to them, but she is walking away and her walking turns into running and there's just no going back, not now._

It is the echoes of a life ending - deafening and damning – and, for a second, Piper wonders if her mother was right, if she has taken complete leave of her senses.

And yet Piper opens her eyes once more and she is raising her hand to knock on this door – she knocks twice, firmly, just to be sure – and then she listens closely; she listens closely to the delicate melody of some song being played beyond this piece of wood, she listens to the sound of someone walking ever closer, and then-

"Pipes...?"

-and then there's Alex, wide-eyed and almost frozen in place, as if she cannot truly believe that Piper is actually standing in front of her and maybe Piper can't believe it either.

Maybe this is the craziest dream ever and she's still stuck in a marriage, stuck in that hometown, stuck with an aching heart and no one to turn to. Maybe Alex didn't write that letter, the one folded and refolded and kept safe in Piper's purse, and maybe theirs is a love not worth risking everything over, maybe this is madness with a capital 'M'.

But then Alex is moving like a shot, barreling into Piper – all long arms and breathless words, syllables lost as kisses fall onto Piper's forehead, onto Piper's cheeks, onto Piper's lips – and yes, this is madness and this is crazy, but Piper is in love, so ridiculously and amazingly in love, and she cups Alex's face and she kisses Alex.

She kisses Alex like she always meant to.  
She kisses Alex like she always wanted to.  
She kisses Alex like they actually have a chance at forever with each other...

 _Alex tugging her along the alleyways, both of them laughing and dodging the raindrops. Alex, smelling of tobacco and tasting of bourbon, tumbling them into bed. Alex with the sunlight glinting off her hair, smiling as the ocean laps at their toes. Alex breathing softly as she sleeps, held securely in Piper's embrace. Alex and the ups and the downs, the good times and the bad times. Alex Vause and everything that goes with loving her, with really loving her._

...and all she can hear now is this moment – Alex saying 'I love you' over and over – and Piper is saying it back, peppering Alex's skin with a promise made so very long ago, and Piper thinks that maybe – just maybe – forever is merely the beginning for the two of them.

/ /

 **[end]**

 **[ps - let's believe that they make it, okay?]**


End file.
